Текст книги "Fighting the Fall"

Автор книги: Jennifer Snow

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

“Looks like he just picked up another call, would you like to hang on a sec?” the guy asked.

“Yeah, I’ll wait . . . thanks.”

As he placed her on hold and heavy metal music blared in her ear, her phone beeped with an incoming call. Pulling the phone away from her face, she saw the Punisher Athletics number lighting up her screen. Huh? Had she somehow gotten disconnected? The hold music still played.

Hitting “Accept” on the incoming call, she said, “Hello?”

The sound of throat clearing made her move the phone away slightly. Gross. “Hello,” she said again when there was silence on the other end.

“Hi . . . uh . . . Ms. Parker?”

“Ms. Hamilton. Parker is my first name. Who is this?”

“Tyson Reed.”

“I was just . . .”

He interrupted. “You still looking for a place to train?” he asked grumpily, his voice gruff.

He’d been calling her the same time she’d been calling him. She smiled. She wouldn’t have to beg. “Um . . . well, I was considering a different gym . . .” she lied.

“Oh, okay, never mind.”

“No! Wait, Tyson . . . yes, I still need a place.”

“Shit,” he mumbled.

Nice.

“Fine. You can train here.”

“You’ll train me?”

“That’s not what I said. For two thousand for the week, you can train here under the guidance of one of my coaches. I won’t be training you. Let’s be very clear about that.”

She frowned. “But . . .”

“Forget it,” he said quickly.

“Wait!” Geez, the guy was annoying as fuck. “Okay, one of your coaches is fine.” She really had little choice.

“Also, I’m not guaranteeing results. As I told you, your body is . . .”

She gritted her teeth. “Yes, yes, I remember. I just need to learn some basic moves. That’s all.” Anything she could learn to at least appear as though she could be ready for the role in three months would be beneficial.

“Okay. Well, you can start today if you want,” he grumbled.

“And if I get the part next week, I can continue training there?” She wanted to be clear that this wasn’t a one-week-only offer.

He hesitated. “Fine. But if I were you, I really wouldn’t hold my breath about getting the part.”

So now he was an expert on Hollywood. “I recall you saying a similar thing about me training at your gym.”

The line went dead.

Chapter 3

Shit. She came back.

Tyson watched as Parker entered the gym and, unfortunately, so did every other man in the place. Dressed in a pair of tight, pale pink leggings that reached just below her knee and a black spaghetti strap tank top that dipped low across her chest and provided little coverage of the ample breasts beneath, her blonde hair curled and tied back in a high ponytail, she looked ready for a photo-shoot for a fitness magazine, not for a grueling, intense fighter’s workout. The professional fighter and trainer in him scoffed at her; the hot-blooded man in him was semi-hard already. What the hell had he agreed to? “Did I say you could stop warming up?” he yelled to the group of fighters doing circuit training in front of him. “Push-ups, then up for squat jacks. Go!” He checked his watch as she stopped beside him.

“I’m here.”

No shit. In less than three seconds she’d already disrupted things. He ignored her. “Full push-ups, nose to the floor¸” he told the guys who were all craning their necks to stare at Parker.

“Tyson,” she said and he cringed. He didn’t like the sound of her voice saying his name. He didn’t like that he was in a position where he needed her money. Correction—his brother needed her money. And he didn’t like that his body was reacting as though it had never seen a beautiful woman before. He finally turned to her. “It’s ‘Coach,’ and you’re late.”

“Well, you just called me an hour ago and you didn’t exactly tell me when classes started . . .”

“Classes are all the time. Real fighters train all the time.”

“Should I join them?” she asked, looking nervously at the men now on their twentieth push-up.

He doubted she’d be able to complete one full one. “No. I told you, I’m not training you.” He pointed across the gym, where Dane worked with the new members of the club, guys who wanted to fight, wanted to train, but lacked the natural potential Tyson could assess within minutes of meeting an eager young wannabe. He focused only on the fighters who could win.

“But I paid you to train me.”

Had she not been listening? “You paid to train here. My personal coaching fee would have cost a lot more than two grand.” His jaw tightened thinking about where her money would go. Keeping his waste-of-space brother alive a little longer. There were far better uses for the funds for which he’d been crazy enough to take from this train wreck, but he’d agreed to bail his brother out once. Then it was up to him to stay clean.

“How much?” she was saying.

“What?”

“How much for you to train me?”

There wasn’t enough money in the world that could entice him to take on that disaster. “I’m not for sale. Dane’s waiting for you.” He hit the timer on his stopwatch. “Okay, everybody up!”

The men jumped to their feet, and Parker stayed exactly where she was.

Now she was just pissing him off. “Look, Ms. Hamilton, either go work out with your trainer or leave. No one stands around in my gym.”

She looked about to argue, but he turned away. “Bobby and Walker—in the cage. You’re up first,” he said.

From the corner of his eye a second later, he saw her join Dane, who’d been watching them and now greeted her with a smile. “Hey, Ms. Hamilton, great to see you.” Dane was dubbed the gentle giant of the group. One of the biggest middleweights in the division, but the nicest fighter on the planet. He was a fan favorite despite an inconsistent fighting record, and if anyone was willing to train Parker, it was Dane. “Ready to work?” he asked her and she smiled, the blonde ponytail bobbing up and down eagerly.

Tyson clenched his jaw. She wouldn’t be smiling by the end of the day. But then, he suspected, neither would he.

*   *   *

What an asshole. Tyson Reed had to be one of the worst men she’d come in contact with . . . ever. He was arrogant, cocky, and rude. He was the one who’d called her and told her she could train there and now he was acting as though her being there was the most inconvenient thing in the world. She didn’t get it. And he’d sure accepted and cashed her check awfully quick.

As she ran the laps outside the gym, she struggled to breathe. She was the only one still out there in the hot afternoon sun, as everyone else had already finished and were rehydrating inside. Her legs were turning to jelly and her lungs hurt. Ten laps? Yeah right. She’d be lucky to survive a fourth. As she neared the gym on her fourth pass, Dane walked toward her.

“How’s it going?”

“Ask . . . me . . . when I can breathe . . .” She stopped and bent at the waist to catch her breath.

“Running’s not easy if you haven’t done it in a while,” he said with a smile.

“Try never . . .”

He laughed. “Water?” He extended a bottle toward her.

“Thank you.” She was careful not to choke on it as her body competed for the cold refreshing liquid and lifesaving air at the same time. Dane was so nice. “I’m sorry you got stuck training me . . . but I have to say, you’re a lot nicer than the alternative.”

“I’ll take that compliment even though my competition wasn’t tough. Don’t mind Tyson—he has a disability.”

She frowned. “Really?” Suddenly, she felt a little bad for calling him an asshole in her mind during the entire run.

“Yeah; it’s called major prick syndrome.” Dane winked. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and led her back inside. “He’s not that bad. He just needs time to warm up to people.”

The man they were talking about turned to look at them as they entered and the expression on his face was a mix of disdain and annoyance.

“How much time?” she mumbled. “Cause I’m not sure ten years would be enough.”

“Well, he’s not training you. I am and I actually think this is really cool.”

Such a great, helpful guy . . . then why couldn’t she stop her gaze from drifting to the not-so-nice one across the gym? “What’s next?”

Dane smiled. “Can you still feel your legs?”

“Barely.”

“That’s a yes then. Let’s hit the circuit.”

Circuit. Just the name sounded painful. She suspected the workout would be torture.

She was right. Leaving the gym, she could no longer feel her legs, and the next morning she wished she couldn’t. “Ow . . . ow . . . ow . . .” Each stair was more impossible than the last. Every muscle in her body screamed when she moved. She couldn’t lift her arms, she couldn’t bend her legs, and breathing too deeply caused her to wince. As a kid she’d broken a rib falling from a set of monkey bars at a playground as a kid. This immobilizing pain was similar.

What the hell had happened to her body the day before?

She was in good shape. Or so she’d thought. She really shouldn’t be struggling to move like this.

Going into her kitchen, she poured a cup of coffee, the weight of the pot making her forearms ache. She hadn’t even known there were muscles in that part of her arm . . . or that she’d been working them. She opened her medicine drawer and struggled to open the bottle of painkillers. Finally succeeding, she took two with a mouthful of hot coffee, then shuffling her feet forward slowly, she went outside. On the deck, she swore under her breath as she lowered herself into a chair and let her legs fall out in front of her.

She may never move again.

A quick glance at her phone revealed it was after seven already. The gym opened at nine and it just might take her two hours to get there . . . but despite the fact that she’d never been in so much pain in her life, she would be there as soon as the doors opened. Show Tyson Reed she was serious and she wasn’t giving up. No matter how tempting it was. Massaging her aching thighs with one hand, she picked up the script she’d left on the table the night before. She flipped to page one and started reading. She hadn’t put herself through this torture for nothing. She was getting this role.

*   *   *

“You’re doing great. That’s it—swing and duck . . . just like that,” Dane was saying outside the office door.

Tyson watched as Parker did as she was instructed. Not bad, he reluctantly admitted, but not good enough. Not if she hoped to get this part she hadn’t shut up about for the last five days, making him want to implement a no-talking-rule in the gym. As he studied her, instantly he saw flaws in her stance, a lack of tightness in her muscles and damn if the woman looked like she’d actually lost weight in the last few days, instead of putting on any kind of bulk to turn her Victoria’s Secret model shape into a fighter’s frame.

He wondered if Dane had given her a meal plan . . .

He shook his head. He didn’t give a fuck.

Getting up, he closed the office door and ran a hand over his head. The truth was, he was surprised to see her back after the first day of training. Watching her hobble out of the gym after Dane had put her through the workout of her life, he’d assumed—prayed, really—that that would be the last he saw of her. He’d had bigger, stronger athletes quit after their first day in his gym.

Instead, she was back every morning as soon as the gym opened. That morning she’d even been standing outside the gym waiting for him to unlock the doors. “You’re early,” he’d said.

“Didn’t want to catch shit for being late again,” she’d said with that too-gorgeous smile of hers, which he tried to avoid being the recipient of at all costs.

He’d grumbled some unintelligible reply as he’d unlocked the door and moved back to let her enter, forbidding his eyes to check out her ass as she passed.

Of course they had betrayed him—just like every other part of his body.

And then when they both reached for the light switch on the wall and his hand brushed hers, the spark between them had been enough to send him walking quickly as far away from her as possible.

She too had fled, jumping immediately into a warm-up . . . One he’d tried desperately not to watch from the office window.

She was determined, he’d give her that, but he doubted her efforts were going to pay off.

There was no way Parker Hamilton could pass as an MMA fighter. No amount of Hollywood magic could make that happen. He felt guilty taking her money when her results were probably not going to be what she’d hoped . . .

Again, not his problem. He’d warned her.

The front door opened and his father walked in. Shit, he was back from Japan early.

And of course, his gaze landed immediately on Parker, dressed today in a bright blue training top and white shorts. Short shorts that hugged her ass cheeks and accentuated her long, tanned legs.

Shorts that he would probably recall later . . . alone in the shower.

The look etched on his father’s face as he came toward the office shook any inappropriate thoughts from Tyson’s mind. “Who is that?” he asked as he opened the office door, loud enough for the woman in question to glance their way.

At least she knew she was causing a disturbance in the atmosphere. “Parker Hamilton. She’s an actress.”

“Does this look like a movie set to you?”

“No, sir. She just needed a place to train for a week before an audition, that’s all,” he said quietly, hoping it was the truth. The last three days, he’d been unable to stop his gaze from drifting toward her frequently. When she ran on the treadmill, her breasts bounced up and down in a mesmerizing rhythm that locked him in a trance. When she did the circuit, her body bending and twisting, usually in improper form, tempted him to place his hands on her and help guide her motions . . . And when she disappeared into the female locker room, sweat glistening on her skin, her hair disheveled, it took all his strength and discipline not to follow her.

His father looked ready to tell him how stupid this was, when his expression changed as he caught sight of the display case.

Shit.

“What the hell happened to the glass?”

“I was moving some supplies in . . . and lost my footing . . . fell against the glass.” He cleared his throat. He’d never been successful lying to his father. Doing so, when honesty and integrity were two of his father’s most-preached-about attributes, made him ill. But there was no way he could tell his father about Connor.

Parker Hamilton was enough to try to explain.

Though it looked as though his father had forgotten all about her as he reached into the case to examine the trophies.

“They’re all fine,” Tyson said. “I’ll call the supplier and order a new wall unit today.” He had no idea where the money was going to come from since he’d spent the extra cash from Parker on Connor’s debts, but hopefully by the time a new case arrived, he’d be able to pay for it. He’d tell them not to rush order it.

His father nodded. “Okay.” His expression softened just a little as he added. “It was probably time for a new one anyway. We’ll need more space for your belt in eight weeks.” The pride and support in his father’s tone made him feel even worse for hiding the fact that his brother was back. And it made him even more determined not to let Parker or Connor mess up his chance of making his father proud.

This gym was all he had. Fighting was all he had.

And he refused to let anyone steal his focus and let him lose sight of what mattered—seeing his light heavyweight championship belt in the display case next to his father’s achievements after the final bell rang.

*   *   *

What was she still doing here? “Hey! The gym’s closed.”

Parker stopped her rain of tiny jabs and hooks—which had zero effect on the heavy bag—and wiped sweat from her forehead as she turned to face him. “You were still in your office, so I figured it was okay to stick around.” Her chest heaved as she caught her breath.

Damn. Even the sight of her breathing annoyed him. The soft swell of her chest rising and falling . . . he wanted to give her a different reason for breathing heavy. He shook his head. “It’s not okay. The gym closes at nine. Everyone leaves at nine.” That’s when his own workouts and training started. Not that evening, though. That week, with the stress of Connor detoxing in his apartment, keeping him hidden from the guys, and dealing with the unhealthy impact Parker was having on his gym, he was mentally exhausted. A workout was probably exactly what he needed, but he wasn’t sure he could keep his eyes open long enough.

“The audition is just a few days away, and I’m really not feeling ready for it. I’d like to stay a bit longer . . . You live upstairs anyway, right?”

“Yes, but I’m going to bed now . . .” His gaze drifted over her against his will and an image of her in his bed flashed in his mind. He really must be stressed. That certainly wasn’t the answer to his problems. “You need to leave.”

“I promise to be quiet and I can lock up when I’m done.”

“You’ve never heard the word no before, have you?”

She placed her hands on her hips and surprised him by smiling. “Not so often from one person, that’s for sure.”

He laughed, surprising himself . . . and her, by the flicker of shock that crossed her face.

“I didn’t know your mouth could actually twist that way,” she said.

Oh, his mouth could twist a lot of ways . . . up and down her body repeatedly. His smile faded as he once again had to rein in his thoughts. He grabbed an extra set of gym keys from the hook near his office door and tossed them toward her.

She caught them, a look of surprise in her eyes.

“Don’t forget to lock the deadbolt.”

*   *   *

Parker watched Tyson as he walked away. His smile seconds before had almost knocked her on her ass. For five days, the only expressions she’d seen on his face were annoyance and stress.

She couldn’t help but wonder about him. She knew from her brief discussions with Dane that Tyson had his own fight coming up, defending his championship title, yet he was so focused and dedicated to helping the other guys train, she wondered when he really had time to focus on his own training. Besides that, he was meeting with new fighters wanting to train there, stocking the gym with gear, and she’d even seen him cleaning . . . a lot. The only real training she’d seen him do that week was spar and grapple with the other guys. A sight that had induced the most intense feelings of attraction she’d ever experienced. Watching him pick up his opponent and toss him to the mat effortlessly was . . . hot.

Guess humans hadn’t evolved that much from their primitive, animalistic instincts, she mused.

But it was more than his incredible body and ability to dominate that intrigued her. He was so intense and he didn’t talk much, other than to instruct his fighters. He rarely joked with the other coaches or ate lunch with anyone. He was so private and closed off, it only made her want to get closer, peel back the layers . . . and the clothing.

She wondered if he was always this way or how much of his attitude had to do with her being there. He was certainly avoiding her, as he’d promised he would. Yet, she’d caught him watching more than once in the last few days and just now, his eyes had reflected an interest as he’d skimmed her body.

To be fair, she’d checked him out more than once. The man was gorgeous. Even his tattoos and the slightly misshapen nose that obviously had suffered more than one break suited him and added character to his features. His squared jaw was always covered in just the right amount of sexy stubble, except over a long, thin scar that disappeared over the curve of his chin toward his neck. His eyes were obviously blue, but they looked clear—see-through, almost—and they had a way of penetrating straight to her core when she caught him staring at her.

He wasn’t her usual type. Her dating history would suggest she preferred the tall, dark, and handsome stereotype. Though, that stereotype usually went hand in hand with the arrogant, self-centered asshole personality, she thought, an image of Brantley Cruise flashing in her mind. She couldn’t believe how quickly she’d fallen for his charm and good looks. Admittedly, she’d fallen even harder for the idea of the Hollywood power couple they represented. Walking on the red carpet with Brantley—not his kiss, not his touch—had been the thrill. What they’d had hadn’t been real. Never had he evoked the same urges in her that Tyson did by completely ignoring her.

As he disappeared from view, she pushed all thoughts of him and her past mistakes aside as she raised her fists, planted her right foot slightly in front of the other, rounded her shoulders, and positioned herself toward the heavy bag the way Dane had taught her.

She needed to get this part and she was determined to work her ass off that week to get it. She’d learned a lot and had come a long way already, but she knew it was only the beginning. The sound of the back door closing as Tyson left brought his smile back to the forefront of her mind as she threw an awkward combination at the bag.

She also wasn’t ready to quit training at Punisher Athletics yet and she refused to question the motivation behind that.